Surivivng a Living Hell
by Cavmankid
Summary: The Wastes have gone to hell, and The Lone Wanderer is to blame. Now, three years later, the only hope is for The Resistance. But we look into a teenager, not an entire army. We follow one boy on his way to try to atleast make his life better. R and R
1. Chapter 1

Surviving A Living Hell

By: Kyle Dalton

Disaster. Pain. Death. The three words that described the present-day times. As if it wasn't like it before. Sadly, it only got worse.

First came the Great War. The bombs were dropped on the United States. People died, entire settlements were destroyed. Supposedly, it was a new start for all. But evil survived with good, and the world didn't change, even if the scene did. Groups were founded on both sides, and the new wars began to take place. But still, the human race survived. But, so did others.

FEV was spread out all over. People were contaminated, and the worst went through a transformation. Super Mutants were born, and the world only got worse.

Time and time again, the bad tried to rise above good, but time and time again, good put bad down. For two centuries, people like the Vault Dweller, or the Chosen One triumphed over the odds, and helped build the likes of the NCR and the Brotherhood of Steel. But as always, evil rose from the ashes in the form of the Legion, Raiders, and Enclave. The fighting crossed the entire continent, reaching from California to D.C.

Washington D.C was a sight indeed. Unlike in California, they have not had a man to take the reins and rebuild them. The Enclave still roamed the streets. The Super Mutants still kidnapped to feed the process of making more of them. The Raiders still tortured innocent bystanders who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Brotherhood was there, but they couldn't be everywhere at once. The Regulators were there, but they too were small in numbers. There were many mercenaries, but money was tight, and that was the only attractor to that type. They needed a hero.

Then, in 2277, Vault 101 opened its doors, and The Lone Wanderer stepped out into the sunlight. The man wearing only a vault suit, and wielded a 10mm pistol was ready to show his worth. His first stop? Megaton. Lucas Simms took him in, and the entire town taught him how to survive in the wastes. They taught him gun skills, survival techniques, and helped him clear out Raider Encampments nearby. To them, he was their start to survival. Then, after a month of living in Megaton, he vanished. And not till the click of the Atomic Bomb in the center of the square went off, blowing the entire town into smithereens, did they realize they he took Mr. Burke's 1,000 cap reward, and left for Tenpenny Tower. His bad side finally showed. The Lone Wanderer was just another curse to the wastes.

And a curse he was, after horrible deed after deed was done. First, Roy Phillips and his gang of ghouls were murdered, their bodies still down in the tunnels. Then came the slaughters of Arefu and The Underworld. He enslaved hundreds of people for Paradise Falls, and emptied out Vault 101, sending the remaining dwellers out to try their luck. He watched the Enclave kill his father, but still sided with them, poisoning the Water Purifier, crushing all the work that was put into it all that time. Raven Rock was destroyed, but still The Lone Wanderer went along with the Enclave, ending the reign of the Brotherhood after he blew up the Citadel, killing Elder Lyon along with it. The Enclave had won the war with the help of what was thought to be the savior of the waste.

Now three years later, the entire waste was still up-side down. Augustus Autumn had his cabinet moved into the newly-renovated White House, where he ruled the D.C area with an iron fist. His main army was still stationed in the Adams Air Force Base, but the 2nd and 3rd Battalions took over Rivet City, patrolling from that area. Talon Company was now under control of the Enclave, when their old leader "mysteriously" died. Super Mutants did as they pleased, taking over The Underworld as their home, wrecking havoc all over The Mall Area. Raiders controlled most of the wastes, working hand-in-hand with the Slavers, sending more panic into the hearts of any and all survivors. The Outcasts fled to Fort Independence, where they sealed themselves in, protecting themselves alone. Good was all but extinct in the Wasteland. Except one; The Resistance.

Founded by Sarah Lyon, The Resistance is the only group that was against the Enclave. When the Citadel was destroyed, she traveled with the Lyon's Pride, and the remaining Brotherhood knights to Evergreen Mills, clearing out the Raiders, and setting base there. With only way into the camp, they had a defensible position, but without personal, they would die anyway. So, they sent out a distress signal, asking for anyone who wanted to burn the Enclave to the ground, and then piss on the remains, to join their coalition. First, The Regulators joined, bringing their squad of about forty five armed fighters to the already army of a hundred. Next came Reilly's Rangers, with equipment and maps of the entire wastes. Then, the caravans joined in, bringing supplies and extra manpower in. Scavengers and other wastelanders came. Soon, entire settlements were flocking in to escape the tyranny of the powerhouses. In about only six months, The Resistance had about 1,000 people, most of which were able body fighters. Sadly, their enemy was far larger, and far ahead in weapons and armor.

But not everyone was caught up in this web of hatred and blood-shed. The Lone Wanderer, now 22 years old, retired to Tenpenny Tower. Mr. Tenpenny died, and he was left the entire tower for his using. Now, he runs the shots, while his personal army protects him. He spends his time drinking his Scotch, Vodka, and Wine on his balcony, with his sniper rifle by his side, waiting for anything or anyone to cross his line of fire. He was living the life. And there were others, rich or poor, who hadn't join the fight.

The vampire cult had yet to venture from their cave, and Ghouls were either dead or hiding. Even some wastelanders had yet to make the journey to The Mills. Maybe they were trapped in D.C, or they just didn't want to take the risk. Some were feeble, or crippled, or just sick of radiation, and couldn't travel. Some just wanted to hang tight where they were at. But many didn't.

Many wanted to pack their things, and hightail it to Evergreen while they were still alive. It was on the back or many's minds, and sometimes, it was all they thought about. Some have already embarked on the trip, while others were pondering it. Many would die, but some would survive, and reach the promise-lands. All they needed was hope.

So now you're caught up with the present. The world had gone to hell, and the devil was banished by the Enclave. The Resistance was gaining support, but one attack from Autumn, and they would only be a bug under his feet. But our story doesn't begin in an all out war, but in an old apartment in the Georgetown district of D.C, with a little boy who only wanted to leave for Evergreen, where he could make a difference. Its time for our tale to begin, so get ready for a "Bucky" ride.

* * *

_Alright, here goes the start of my new story. I've been a fan of Fallout for a while, and I've always wanted to try this. Hope you like, and all comments are welcome. Ideas would be good too haha_


	2. Knock knock, who's there?

**Chapter 1: Knock Knock. Who's there?**

The survivor in particular that wants to leave for The Resistance is known as Buck, and he is just awakening in the early November morning. The fifteen year old was laying on a small cot in a bedroom in a three-story apartment that he found two months ago. The sun was just risen over the buildings in the square, bathing the room with light through the cracks of the boarded up window, turning the dust into little, glowing bugs, floating in the air. The room itself was rather bland, with only the cot, an old card table, a dresser missing two drawers, and the window.

Buck rolls over, dropping his feet onto the floor, sending more dust into the air, and runs his hands through his curly, blond hair, trying to untangle the knots. He then went through the process of putting on his leather armor, a gift from his father. Buck shakes his head. He can't think about that right now. His parents are dead. Just him and Titan, his only other friend.

Bull pulls on his combat boots, and his black sweater, concealing his armor. After tightening his shoe strings, he stands, and stretches his muscles. His lean body ripples with muscles, as a limit of food cuts down on body fat. You had to be strong to survive in these times. Strong and smart.

After his morning stretches, Buck walks over to the window, and looks out into the square. Glass covered the ground, and several spots stained red are visible, but no living thing was seen. An ironic sight in Georgetown Square, a busy attraction before the Great War. Can't believe that was over 200 years ago.

Buck was brought back to reality with the smell of smoke. A small wisp was slowly drifting over to his apartment from across the street, at the Grocery Store. He wasn't alarmed; just surprised, since that was where Titan resided. When his parents died, Buck fled the wastes, and ended up in northern D.C, with no where to go and no where to hide. The only other inhabitant was Titan, a scavenger, and he taught Buck the survival skills needed around here. The only question is why Titan breaks rule number one, and lights a fire when the smoke could be seen?

And then it hit him. The scent of dog meat cooking fills Buck's nose, and his question was answered. Titan found food last night, and he wanted some. But first, he needed his gear. Why? Buck didn't even know.

Buck walked over to the dresser, and opened the top drawer. Inside was a red backpack, with several pockets, and, on the front, the name Franklin was stitched in. Buck still remembered how he got the bag. His father and he were searching an old apartment in Big Town. The bag was beside a corpse missing his arms, legs, and head, with a blood-stained ripper nearby. They left the ripper, as it was a bad omen, but took the bag so he may use it to carry his stuff.. Franklin never had a chance. He died screaming on his bed while the Raiders cut off limb after limb for _fun_.

Buck unzipped the top pouch, and began to pack his scavenging equipment in it. His bag of bobby pins, matches, several whiskey bottles filled with radscorpion poison, and his pocket knife. Finally he pulled out his zip-lock bag full of his life savings, 300 caps.

After storing those items, he shut the now-empty drawer, and opened the second drawer. In there were his true prized possessions; his weapons. First he pulled out a broad machete, strapped to a leather belt. A lone visit to Megaton before it blew up, courtesy of The Lone Wanderer, gave Buck his first ever weapon to kill the imaginary and real Mole Rats and Radscorpions. He wraps the belt around his waist, latching it at the belt buckle, in easy reach of his slashing hand.

Next came the one thing more valuable to Buck than caps and food in his belly, his hunting bow. The last thing his father ever gave him. The 40 lb. Drawback was perfect for Buck's 5'8" frame, and when his arrow-tips are dipped in his radscorpion poison, he could down a super mutant brute. . . He hoped. He slung the bow across his shoulders, from shoulder blade to hip, followed by his leather quiver filled with two dozen arrows bathed in his poison. And mom said that science kit he found for his tenth birthday wouldn't be worth anything.

When he was ready, he put on his only hat on his head, sending random strands of hair in wild directions. It was blue, with the letters "N" and "Y" intertwined. Buck always wondered if they were any good. Finally he decided that they had to be decent, if their hat was miles away from anywhere that said NY.

With one last glance around his room, Buck steps out, shuts the door, and walks down the stairway to the exit. First, he had to pass through the lobby, with a bad history behind it, with its broken furniture and bullet holes on the walls. On his arrival two months ago, Buck found the remnants between a firefight between some wastelanders and Talon Company. Three bodies were left and a broken Assault Rifle, which wasn't fixable. On the wall, those bastards spray-painted their new insignia, a black skull with two white talons grasping on the eye sockets. Underneath it, they wrote "Either you're with Talon, or you're dead." Buck hated them.

Buck pushed through the revolving doors— which surprisingly still worked— and half-creeped, half-ran to the Grocery store. Instead of going through the front door, which was boarded over, he ran into the alley and knocked on the back door. After a few seconds, the door slowly opened, and Buck slipped in.

Inside, several shelves, standing and fallen over, scatter the area. In one aisle, a small fire was burning, with a dog carcass roasting on a makeshift spit. Other than that and Titan's belongings, the room was empty, ransacked and looted earlier on. It did serve as a home though.

Titan put a hand on Buck's shoulder. When he turned up alone, Titan took him in as his own. He himself had a son, but a raider attack over thirty years ago ruined that part of his life. Now he was nearly sixty, his gray beard showing it off, and his age was slowly catching up to him.

Buck squats down, by the fire, and warms his hands, watching the meat cook. "Where did you find it?" he asked.

Titan squatted down beside him. "Found him last night, while I was out." Titan usually scavenged at night, while Buck did the same in daylight, that way one could sleep while the other kept a watch out for anything useful. At least, that's what Titan told him. His real reason was because he couldn't sneak around as good as his little kid could, on account of his size, up and out. "You came at a good time. Just 'bout to eat it."

Buck smiled, showing off his buck-teeth. Titan didn't know if that was why he called himself Buck, or not. It wasn't like he was called Titan for his beer belly.

Titan pulls out some oven mitts, and grabbed he burning spit, pulling their breakfast out to cool. The sizzling meat and succulent smell was too much for the hungry duo, and they were ripping the meat off the bones before the steam had subsided. Buck drank a Nuka-Cola, while Titan drank the last of his beer stash. Soon they were full, and just relaxing.

After they had their fill, the duo sat around the campfire, talking.

"You use the radio lately?" Buck asked.

"Na," Titan replied. "Just the same bullshit that Enclaves been sending for five years. Join the cause, join the Enclave! Load of manure."

Buck rolled on his back. "I wish The Resistance hadn't stop their radio message. I liked to know whether or not they were still fighting, and that was my only way to know. Now I'm worried."

"It's alright kid," Titan said, patting Buck's stomach. "Actually, I have a surp-"

Titan pauses, and his ears perk up. Buck heard it too. Footsteps.

Titan and Buck get into a crouching position, listening. First light was coming through the window, and then nothing. A large figure steps in front of it, blocking all light. Then, a low booming voice pieces the air.

"It's smoking inside," The voice said.

A second voice, no higher than the first, replies, "I smell food. You know what to do,"

No answers follow, but the sound of a sledgehammer smashing against the front door is heard. Buck and Titan knew what was happening. Super Mutants were knocking on their door.


	3. And they say Ghouls are Ugly

**And They Say Ghouls are Ugly**

How the hell did this happen? One moment, they were lounging around, and the next, preparing for a Mutant breach. Its a good thing they were always prepared.

Buck jumps up, and pulls his bow out, notching an arrow. Titan runs over to a shelve, that isn't bathed by the light of the fire, and motions for Buck. "Get on top," Titan whispered, "I'll boost you up."

Buck nods, and creeps over, trying not to alert the enemy, and lets Titan lift him up onto the top shelve, completely hidden in the shadows. He was hidden, and just above a Mutant's head, if they come near.

Titan than runs over to the counter, where the cash register, and some other oddities rest, and prepares for a fight. The smashing of the sledgehammer is now a frequent noise, occurring every few seconds or so. He was nervous. Not for him, but for Buck. They would kill him, but take his trooper, and do only God knows what. Death was the only relief now. "Time to give those bastards some relief," Titan thought, putting the clip into his Hunting Rifle, and pulling the bolt back.

The smashing continued for several minutes, as the Mutants were trying to bust the door down, and to unnerve their so to be victims. Buck knew that. The Mutants may look stupid, and they are, but during situations like this one, they knew what to do. But so did he. He pulled out his machete, laying it beside him, and his bow, arrow ready to fire, on his lap. Now they play the waiting game.

And still the smashing continued. The door was all but completely destroyed. The boards were nearly broken in two. They were almost in. Titan, crouched and tense, pulled out his only bottle of Vodka, pulling the cork out with his teeth. The last of his stash. "Would it be his last?" he asked himself.

After one last swing of the hammer, there was silence, but for only a brief moment, as the first mutant rammed his shoulder through the boards, finally breaching the store. He was wearing the simple armor of a grunt, with a breast plate covering his vital organs. The sledgehammer rested in his tree-trunk arms. His beetle eyes scanned the room, looking for the humans. All he saw was the fire, and half eaten dog carcass.

Then, the second Mutant stepped in. He too was just a grunt, carrying a near-broken Assault Rifle. "Their heads were unprotected, so they could still kill them," Buck thought. "Always go for the one with the gun." Titan's heeding words were ringing in his ears.

The Mutant grunted angrily, smashing his sledgehammer into a nearby chair, shattering it. "The fire's fresh, but no humans in sight."

The second one prodded the dog carcass. "But they're here, if not in this room." He points to the bedding.

"Then where are they?"

"Hiding." The second one replied, drifting closer and closer to Buck's shelf. Buck reached for his machete, slowly and quietly.

The first one sniffed the air. "The dog meat is to pungent. I can't smell them."

"Move away from the fire," The second one suggested. Now, he was right under Buck. He could see the wrinkles on top of his head. How he wanted to skin him while he was still living. "Uglies," Buck mumbled.

"Did you hear that?" the first one asked, grasping his sledgehammer tighter, and searching the room.

"Yea' I did. Mighty close." The second cocks the weapon, squinting into the darkness, still unable to see anything. This was Buck's chance. He gripped the Machete with two hands, lifted it up, and drove it through the skull of the Mutant. The head exploded, sending blood flying. The Mutant's eyes roll into the back of his head, and he drops to the ground, dead as a doorknob.

The first mutant saw his comrade die, and he leaps into action. He bounds the three steps to the shelf, and swings it over top, and smashes it on the shelf. Splintering wood is heard, but not the crumpling of bones. The he heard a young voice, "I'm over here asshole." He turned to find a short boy, with crazy blond hair, pointing a bow and arrow at him. He chuckled.

Buck chuckled too, and let the arrow fly. First, the arrow pierced the Mutant's neck, sending the poison on the tip into the bloodstream. Then, a moment later, a .32 caliber bullet explodes out of the Mutant's forehead, splattering Buck with more Mutant blood. Disgusting. The Mutant died with that grin on his face.

Titan walks up to the corpse, and rips Buck's machete out of the Mutant's skull, wiping the gore on his pant's leg. Both were dead. Buck was pretty good. Not many fifteen year old boys can say they killed two mutants. Most were dead before fifteen.

Titan handed Buck back his machete, and he takes it slowly. "Did pretty good right there," observing the carnage; the neck shot the highlight. Then he noticed the boy turning an ugly shade of green. "You look a little sick there, bud."

Buck nodded, and ran over to a corner filled with cardboard boxes, and vomited up his breakfast. Titan didn't blame him. Most men couldn't handle the sight, or stench, or those beasts, and a teenager was covered in their gore. Nasty.

Titan walked over to the corpses, and quickly searched them, finding nothing but 5.56mm bullets, useless to him. He pulled the bolt back, reloading his gun, when he heard more movement. He whipped around, and was facing a third Mutant, with his mini-gun pointed at him. The horrible grin on the Brute's face said it all. He was going to die. So as he vowed he would do it this situation, he fired off one round, catching the Brute in the meat of the arm, and then felt the hot iron of the 5mm rounds piercing his body. Relief.

Buck heard the gunfire, and quickly reacted. He gripped his machete, and slowly creeped around behind the Brute. This one had armor covering his torso, arms, and the back of his head, but there were a few open areas to exploit.

Buck creeped closer and closer, waiting for the right moment to strike. The smell of fresh blood was almost unbearable, with that on his clothes, and of Titan's spilled blood. The anger in Buck was almost at a boiling point. Not only was Titan near dead, but now he was alone, to face this hell hole by himself. This bastard was going to pay dearly for his blunder.

The Brute surveyed the room, looking at the fallen grunts. Two Mutants killed by one smoothskin. He shouldn't be surprised, as all Mutants had heard the story of how The Lone Wanderer killed hundreds of Mutants, so why couldn't this one slob. The logic was there, but the fact that one of the corpses had an arrow sticking out of its neck still slipped his mind. Someone else was here, but it was probably gone now. He would soon be caught. The Mutant bent down to further examine the arrow.

That was his chance. When the Brute bent down, he exposed the leather under the armored skirt, worn to prevent chafing on the butt. The leather was still weak though. Buck reshifted his grip, and shoved the machete upward, splitting leather, and sending the blade into some personal parts of the unlucky Brute, who dropped on one knee, grunting. Buck ripped the machete out, sending a new stream of blood flowing, and bounded around, getting in the surprised face of the Brute. "I hope that hurt, you son of a bitch," Buck spat, before shoving the machete through the open mouth of the Brute, not stopping until his blade struck metal He pushed the Brute with his boot, sliding the corpse off his blade, leaving only gore on the metal. He ran to Titan.

Buck knew Titan was going to die. The bullets pierced his entire body, with over five open bullet wounds. Blood was running from his mouth, and the floor was already covered by a large pool of red liquid. Several ribs were showing through his skin and he was fighting for every breath.

Buck took his hand. Titan looked at him, pain evident on his face, but compassion still glowing in his eyes. "You say any sappy bullshit, and I will get up to hit you," he said softly.

Buck chuckled, and so did Titan, which turned into another round of coughing up blood. He patted Buck on his shoulder one last time. "Look son," he began, whispering, "I want you to get out of here. . .

"Where would I go?" Buck interrupted.

"I wasn't finished. Take my satchel, and find somewhere safe. Somewhere far from here. Inside, you'll find something that will help. Now go, and always remember the Titan." And Titan was dead.

Buck sat there, holding Titan's hand, as it slowly went cold and stiff, before finally deciding to take charge. Titan wanted him to take action, so that's what he'll do. He retrieve his arrow, replacing it in his quiver, and put the machete back on his belt loop. Than, he through Titan's bag over his shoulder, heading for the door. He stopped, and turned back to his teacher, friend, and second dad, and sighed. "I wonder if he has anything useful?" Buck asked himself, and returned to his friend's body.

Buck bent down, and rummaged through his pockets. Empty beer bottles, a butter knife, some dice, and gum in one pocket. In the second was something more useful. He pulled out a small pouch, which jingled as the sound of coins were heard. Money was always worth it. He puts that in his pocket, and opens his last pocket. He pulls out a small green ball, with a clip, as if to put on the belt or the strap on his bag. There was a little plug, that looked like it could come off with a slight tug. He decided that it was useful, and stuffed it in his pocket. All that was left was Titan's rifle. He was taught to shoot at age 12 by his real dad, but Titan never had a spare gun for him to use. Now, he had a chance to have a gun for himself.

Buck reaches for the hunting rifle, when the splintering of wood is heard. Buck jumps up, machete drawn, and is now face to face with a fourth brute, wielding an ax. This grunt is all business, and anger is plastered on his face, on account of his friends dead, killed by a fat smoothskin, and a child barely strong enough to wield a weapon. The Mutant swung the ax.

* * *

_Alright, Chapter two is done, leaving some good questions. Will Buck get away? What's in Titan's bag? How will he ever get to the Resistance. Read and find out._

_Comments and critisism is encouraged._


End file.
